Through The Glass
by passthebutter
Summary: On this particular Friday night, Theo was slumped over his kitchen table, Firewhiskey glass still in hand. This wasn’t unusual – not any more, anyway.


A/N: Warning: minor self-mutilation. Nothing graphic, but don't say I didn't warn you. Very angsty.

* * *

On this particular Friday night, Theo was slumped over his kitchen table, Firewhiskey glass still in hand. This wasn't unusual – not any more, anyway. His head was bent to one side, mouth slightly open. A soft guttural sound came from his throat as he breathed shallowly, the only sign that this man was actually alive.

A sharp crack in the distance startled Theo, and he cracked open his eyes. He groaned, lifting his head up blearily. Mouth dry and head aching, Theo tried to think. He didn't know how long he had been asleep – he must have passed out here a few hours earlier, maybe.

Pushing himself up shakily, Theo stumbled into the bathroom. He noticed he still had his half-empty glass with him, and lifted it to his mouth. Maybe it would make him feel better… it couldn't make him feel worse, at any rate. As Theo started to take a slow swig, he paused, catching sight of himself in the mirror. He looked _terrible_. His hair was greasy and longer than he liked it; his chin was covered in stubble; his bloodshot eyes had dark circles under them. Theo leant closer to the mirror, forgetting his alcohol momentarily. He studied his face carefully. What had happened to him? This wasn't him; this wasn't the Theo he knew. This was some kind of imposter – it had to be. He couldn't even begin to consider the other option, that this _was_ him, that the young, intelligent, handsome boy everyone had known had turned into _this_.

Turning away from the mirror bitterly, Theo looked down at the glass in his hand. He was suddenly angry, angry at this amber liquid. It wasn't_his_ fault – it was _this_. He spun round and hurled it against the wall, watching it smash satisfactorily against the tiles. Shards of glass and drops of Firewhiskey went everywhere, falling to the tiled floor with soft clinks and splashes, respectively. Theo crumpled to the floor, sobs racking his frail body. He vaguely felt the glass digging into his knees and the liquid seeping through his jeans. How had his life amounted to this? He had been reduced to drinking alone in a Muggle hovel every night of the week. He was pathetic.

Tears running down his cheeks, Theo sifted through the bits of glass roughly. He felt blood well up on his hands as the glass broke skin, but he didn't care. His hands found a reasonable sized shard of glass and he lifted it. The dim electric light above him reflected off it and down onto the glass on the floor, and light danced around the room. It only helped to fuel Theo's senseless delirium. It was mesmerizing, enthralling, entrancing. As he lifted the glass and brought it down to his arm, his sobs calmed. He had promised himself he would never do this – but the feel of the cold glass on his skin brought him back to earth; like he had been floating out at sea, lost, and this was his life-ring. Theo pressed down, watching, but not _seeing,_watching, but not really _feeling_. Blood appeared around the glass. It ran down his arm and pooled on the floor. It was strangely beautiful, and suddenly, Theo was just kneeling there, staring at red liquid on dirty grey tiles. He wasn't doing anything else, he wasn't moving, wasn't thinking, he was just… staring.

A sharp rap at the door broke Theo's trance, and he seemed to wake up, all of a sudden reeling back from the scene he had made, dropping the glass and collapsing on the floor in a heap.

A voice called, "Theo? Are you in there? Open up!"

But Theo just lay there, starting to sob again. They were dry, racking sobs, that made his whole body hurt. He faintly heard a commotion in the background, footsteps, and a gasp. Someone fell to his side. "Theo, Theo!" this someone said. "Oh Gods," it whispered. "This is my entire fault. Theo, I'm so sorry. Oh, Theo, I am so, so sorry."

Something fluttered in Theo's chest at the voice. He recognised it. Theo felt cool hands on his face, smoothing back his hair, calming his cries.

Theo opened his eyes slowly and whispered only one word.

"Blaise."


End file.
